


Chapter Forty-Six: Pretty When You Cry

by CavalierConvoy



Series: MTMTE Series One: Shoot Straight with a Crooked Gun [47]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation One, Transformers Generation Two, Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Alien Character(s), Betrayal, Gen, Other, Post-Divorce, Suspicions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:40:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3859114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years ago, while Skyfire and Artemis parley with Starscream over the captured Warworld, outside Cybetronian  space, Artemis's Sirian allies back at the Four Winds learn that Waspinator, their temporarily displaced charge, had gone off on his own to follow the call of the titans, whispering in his head.</p><p>Back in present time, Depth Charge was first to notice that Hellfire had navigated to the one place no one wanted to cross: the Benzuli Expanse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter Forty-Six: Pretty When You Cry

I didn't mean to fuck you, baby, I didn't mean to fuck you  
I didn't mean to fuck you, but you're pretty when you're mine

I didn't really love you, baby, I didn't really love you  
I didn't really love you, but I'm pretty when I lie

—["Pretty When You Cry"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IOZ6ptqcbUc) by Vast, from Visual Audio Sensory

Warworld  
10 AU from Cybertron  
Three Stels Ago

"How?" Skyfire questioned. "How can he be a receptive spark?"

Artemis's expression remained dead. "Probably the receptive spark and Matrix-affinity slag's an urban legend spread by the Senate to keep us little people from dreaming big." Her face contorted, and resumed anger. "How long you gonna keep us here, Starscream?!"

_"Long enough for you to calm the frag down and listen to me. Primus, were you always such a stubborn brute?"_

"Enough, both of you," Skyfire ordered. "Let's try to get through this civilly without resorting to unnecessary bloodshed."

"I wouldn't call it 'unnecessary'," Artemis growled. Skyfire shot her a warning glare. "Oh, don't start defending him now, Sky. You were the one dragging my aft to some backwater outpost because this gashole and his new friends decided to use me as an anatomy lesson."

_"It's called infiltration! I had to earn their trust — "_

"You fraggin' tortured me, Starscream! Of course I'm not —"

_"You wanted to acquire a Warworld for your silly quest!"_

"That's enough!" Skyfire took hold of Artemis's shoulder, none too gentle. "Listen, Starscream, unless Artemis and I send out a message to the fleet that you succeeded, they're on standing orders to destroy the Warworld — us included."

_"The Autobots would never risk destroying the Matrix."_

"The only ones who knew that I had the Matrix was the Senate," Artemis countered. "And they've fallen, scattered. That fleet's made up of Wreckers and former Elite Guard, and Roadbuster has the command. You think he cares about an antique bauble?"

_"I will destroy them — "_

"The _Vindication_ and the _Xantium_ are leading the charge, with Darxtar and Four Winds' Spirals coming in on your back door, and those are just the flagships," Artemis interrupted. "You'll get some of us, if you're lucky; not all. Wreck and rule, flyboy."  
A

communications panel extended from the wall, folding outward, projecting a hail. _"Call them off — tell them to surrender or they will be destroyed."_

"How long do we have, Skyfire?" Artemis demanded.

The scientist's tone was neutral. "Thirty-one cycles."

"Plenty of time." Artemis crossed her arms over her chest. "So we're going to talk face to face, Starscream, or are you going to keep hiding?"

_"Call them off!"_

"Don't you worry, I'll call them, all right; whether or not I drop the order to destroy the three of us and the ship, that's up to you."

_"You wouldn't."_

"Wanna bet? Jhiaxus watches a Warworld go up, he'll think twice about attacking Cybertron. Sky'll get a nice memorial for the sacrifice — hell, I may get a mention! — and you'll be forgotten. Win-win all around."

_"You're bluffing."_

"Sky, I'm glad we crossed paths again. It's been an honour and a pleasure." Artemis flicked the panel and keyed up the codes to the _Xantium_. "Roadbuster, this is Artemis. Prepare to — "

The power to the control panel died.

Artemis smiled. "Ready to parley, then?"

"Twenty-eight cycles," Skyfire announced.

 

***

Wreckers' Spoils  
Now

"We dodged a bullet," Sandstorm concluded. "We were out cleaning up the remnants of Jhiaxus's troops; by the time we got back to Cybertronian space — "

" — we were receiving the casualty list," Octane finished. "Good for us, though Art wasn't all too happy. Neither was Cav, though it was for different reasons. Poor Brat crushed so hard on Ironfist — " 

"Why are we back here?" Depth Charge demanded.

"Where are we?" Sandstorm brought his attention to the main viewscreen.

Hellfire's talons twitched. _< <Can't tell you. I'm just following the trail. And how did you know where we are?>>_

"Recognised the star field," the manta retorted. "We've been down this corridor." 

"Where are we?" Sandstorm repeated with more force.

 _< <Near the Benzuli Expanse?>>_ Hellfire questioned. _< <We crashed on a planet in this system — >>_

Sandstorm brought his machine pistol online, aiming at the navigator. "What the frag are you trying to pull here?"

"Weapon down, Sandstorm!" Pantera barked. "Hellfire, explain this!"

_< <'Tera, I don't know! I'm following the trail — >>_

"No one goes to the Benzuli Expanse!" Octane countered, holding his hands up. "Sandy, put the gun down, it ain't helping! C'mon, kid, tell him we're not going through the Expanse!"

 _< <I can calculate through it as so long as we have enough power to use the fold engines,>>_ Hellfire closed his fists, powering down the systems. _< <Now, pretend we know nothing and tell us what's the issue.>>_

"Sandy," Octane pleaded. "Lower the gun."

Sandstorm growled, then put his hands up. Octane approached his friend cautiously and removed the pistol from the smaller triple-changer's grip.

"Without risking sounding superstitious," the violet and black rogue continued, "it's a cursed place. Bad Things happened here. It's haunted — portal to the Dead Universe and all that fun stuff. We learnt slag not meant to be learnt! Galvatron, Jhiaxus, Maximo — no go! Can't speak, no complete sentences. Bad place!"

"And how do we know you didn't come from the Dead Universe?" Sandstorm demanded. "You could be working for Galvatron, for all we know! Fraggit, Octane, we should have stayed in Kethys!"

"If we were from the Dead Universe," Pantera raised her own hands in offering peace. "We wouldn't have been able to last outside this long."

"Which is why you're coming back here!"

_< <Look, I'll fold through; I'll go around if I must. But we are not from the Dead Universe, and we're not working for Galvatron or Maximo or Unicron. Our only mission is to find the Lost Light and keep it from exploding — for real, this time.>>_

"But the data led us back here," Depth Charge pointed out. "Why?"

 _< <That,>>_ Hellfire pulled his hands in, steepling them in front of his chest, _< <is a very good question.>>_

"Can you predict a path around it?" Pantera questioned.

_< <In theory.>>_

"How 'bout in practice?" Depth Charge growled.

 _< <In practice? I think we're too late.>>_ A grating buzz escaped the navigator's throat. _< <I'm not picking up anything other than static. What's that sound? I've been picking it up for the past ten cycles.>>_

"What sound?" Octane demanded. 

_< <Like someone with a high-pitched voice saying "Hey!">>_

Sandstorm furrowed his brow. "That's Cav's ping notification. Octane—"

"On it," the tallest mech took to the comm, booting up the console. He was silent for five clicks before clapping his hands, spinning in the chair. "Hot damn — it's a subspace from Minerva! They made contact with Art!"

"What does she say?" Sandstorm demanded, forgetting that he was in standoff and grabbing his companion's shoulder, swinging Octane about face to the console.

"Direct subspace contact at Hedonia, four sols ago. And that's not all!" Octane laughed, scrolling through the message. "Looks like the Demons cocked up and tried to make a grab for an artifact the _Lost Light_ found, then tried to get it through the legal systems."

"They knew Ultra Magnus was on board, right?" Sandstorm pointed out.

"If the Demons got involved, that means so did the Shadows! And look what else we won!" Octane queued the message onto the main screen — a set of numbers. "Oi, Squawky, do those look like coordinates to you?" 

_< <Don't call me — >>_ Hellfire rasped, aborted his complaint, then nodded. _< <They're coordinates, yes.>>_

"They got comms back up!" Octane stamped his feet excitedly. "They're alive!"

 _< <It doesn't make sense,>>_ Hellfire brooded. _< <These coordinates are nowhere near the projected possibilities....>>_

"Don't matter," Depth Charge ordered.

"Agreed," Pantera nodded; her tone was along the line of Sandstorm's and Octane's. "Set course for those coordinates!"

_< <I'd like to state I'd rather exercise caution at this point.>>_

"Reasons?"

_< <Too perfect. Why would we be drawn here via calculations...?>>_

"You tell us," Sandstorm retorted, "You're the one flying this scow."

 _< <That's the thing — I'm following pure mathematics. Physics. And now we get a subspace regarding the whereabouts of the _Lost Light, _telling us it's at least ... seventy-four light-years out of the way? >>_

"If it makes you feel any better," Octane pointed out, "that message was timestamped three hours ago."

 

*

Four Winds Bar  
Kethys, Sirius II  
Three Stels Ago

Darxtar was livid. The large Vosian Decepticon eighty-sixed a bottle of tungsten-casked Primus's Chosen, and had proceeded to yell in his native tongue. Even without her transtector, Minverva stormed on his heels, arguing back in Neocybex, tainted with her Scottish-American accent. 

"You and your Primus-damned charity cases, Ryder!" Darxtar thundered. "See, this is what happens when you take in every single scraplet that crosses your path and gives you the petrorabbit optics!"

"Oh, and you're one to talk!" she snapped. "Let's talk about Astrotrain, eh? How about Blitzwing? They worked out well, didn't they? And poor Thundercracker —"

"That wasn't my fault!" Darxtar countered. "He made his berth, facing off with Galvatron!"

"You promised you'd watch him!"

"And since we're bringing up history now — we're talking about your frag-up!"

"Hey, guys," the third person in the room, another human, this one a male in his mid-twenties, with shaggy red-brown hair and green eyes. He spoke English; his ability to break down Cybertronian speech into base understanding did not extend to speaking it. "Can I bring up a — "

"Luke, stay out of this!" Minerva ordered, still in Neocybex. "Darxtar, have you any experience with temporal physics? Well, guess what: I do. And temporal anomalies have a habit of getting seriously slagged up. And you know what? We did pretty damned well keeping him with it until now. So I'm going to hit the pavement to see about getting him back."

"You're damn right you're going to fix this, Ryder!" Darxtar shouted. "I don't care if he is Cybertronian — he was your responsibility!"

"Guys, can I — "

"Shut the frag up, meatbag!" Darxtar ordered. "Liability, Ryder! I've been screaming that since sol one! I don't care if he's lived in the kitchen ever since you found him! He's got trade secrets! You trusted him far too much!"

"Darxtar, Minerva, please listen to me — "

"I said shut the — "

Minerva held up a hand to interrupt. "What?" she demanded, tone curt.

"I programmed a firewall in his head, his request," Luke stammered. "He said he needed to do it. That the giants were whispering to him. Because he was out of time, out of sync with the rest of the universe."

"'Giants'?" Minerva repeated.

Luke nodded. "He was about the ancient giants, who roamed the universe. The vehicles of the Thirteen Tribes. It sounded like religious texts, but ... he was convinced that if he stayed, it would destroy him ... destroy us."

"The frag...?" Darxtar grumbled.

"He was afraid that he'd be consumed by the voices. So first he asked me to program a buffer, but it didn't take. The voices were too powerful, too strong. So he asked me to program a failsafe. Something that locked out what he remembered from his temporal jump."

"I don't get it...voices?" Minerva had reverted to English. "He's never had that issue before, at least not what he told us. What do you mean 'voices'?"

"The metrotitans," Darxtar grumbled. "More likely he's gone 'round the bend."

"What are metrotitans?" Minerva demanded.

"'Metro' meaning city; 'titan' meaning big fraggin' giants; 'metrotitan' meaning big fraggin' giants with city alt modes. And I thought you were the linguist. But there's only one left: Metroplex."

"Either way," Luke shrugged, "he had me lock out certain memory blocks: the stuff that happens after this point — those were easy to ascertain. But he also specified those related to us. To the Four Winds. He wanted to lock them out because he wanted to keep us safe."

"Are you trying to protect him?" Darxtar growled.

Luke shook his head. "No; he's trying to protect us. Just because he has a speech impediment doesn't mean he's stupid. We found something." Luke tapped at his datapad, then passed it over to Minerva. "The Demons have a contract out. For pieces of old Cybertronian tech." The young man took a deep breath. "Waspinator agreed to go sleeper agent for us. To find out what they're doing. Who's responsible for the contract. Why."

"That idiot," Darxtar grumbled, then pointed a finger at Luke. "You're an idiot! Why the hell are you doing, taking orders from a grunt?"

"Because he's right," Luke snapped. "Because if what you say is true, and what he thinks is true, and he's getting transmissions from old tech, and we've got his signature locked twenty-four-seven — "

"—that means all times—" Minerva translated to Darxtar.

"—then we can keep tabs on him, on figuring out why Demons and their clients want old Cybertronian tech. Because we know the only Cybertronian clients they deal with are — "

"—Decepticons," Darxtar interrupted. "Namely, Galvatron."

 

NEXT CHAPTER: The Wait


End file.
